


Striped

by MinawaKitten



Series: Carnations [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinawaKitten/pseuds/MinawaKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It happened too fast for you to truly understand. There was a fight in the middle of D.C. . . . Something hit you. . . and suddenly it's the 1940's? </p><p>What the hell?</p><p>--</p><p>thanks to my friend mel for helping me w this thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. {01} - The Beginning

This. . . . couldn’t be real. It really couldn’t be. But this newspaper couldn’t be lying in saying that is was late 1941. The fashion, the vehicles and the buildings were all the works of seventy years ago. You knew that thanks to your history teachers that relentlessly shoved endless amounts of history into your brain.

But, how the hell could this even be possible? You knew for sure it was April 3rd, 2014. It’s hard to forget that day for many reasons. You had caught sight of the patriotic hero Captain America fighting a man in all black in the streets of D.C. by coincidence during a quick run to the store. Shortly after you made it to safety you were struck by . . . something.

You glance to your left hand, thinking about whatever struck you. It impaled the top of your left hand, ripping through the flesh with ease but, for whatever reason, it nestled itself in your hand and the flesh was healed in an instant, leaving an ugly scar on your hand in it’s wake. The only thing you were certain of, it was a red. And possibly oval shaped judging by the shape of the scar on your hand.

Still, you’re not sure what happened between that and now.

If this really was the 1940s, this was long before you were born meaning you had no family or anyone to help you out. . . that and World War II was raging on at the moment. Neither of these were helpful to your situation.

Still, there had to be some sort of shelter around here. Just for the night. In the morning you could look for somewhere to live and some clothes if this situation panned out longer than you would hope it would. You had the money to do so. . . Due to inflation, you had more than enough money.

Oh, this was horribly ironic. . .

Regardless, clothes was your first priority of things to take care of the following day for sure. What you chose to wear today, your favorite hoodie, sandals and a pair of jeans, make you stick out like a sore thumb. To be honest, the less attention you could get, the better.

* * *

 

Thankfully, you were able to find a shelter before it closed it’s doors for the night. Well almost, you tactfully slid half of your body through the door and doorframe before she the doors could be locked for the night. You should've expected that the woman at the door would give you an odd look for that.

“H-Hello. . .” You sputter awkwardly. “This is . . . a shelter, right?”

“It is. . .” The woman responds slowly, taking in your appearance and trying to figure out if you were a threat or not. You . . .probably didn’t look that great in her books now that you think about it. You really look all sorts out of the place in this era.

“Do you have a bed available for the night?” You ask slowly, trying to smooth back your hair in an attempt to look somewhat presentable. “I-I just came to the city and I have no family anywhere. . . I just need a night, or two, and I’ll be out of your way.”

“No, don’t worry about that.” The woman smiles. “Excuse me, you just looked . . .a bit odd but you seem to be quite well mannered. Please, sign your name in the guestbook and I’ll locate an empty cot for you tonight. I believe we have a few unoccupied for the night.” With that said, the woman excused herself and walked down a hall. You watch her for several moments before approaching the guestbook on the desk as she mentioned.

It wasn’t too much of a surprise to see that the paper was covered in many names. This was a time of war after all, a spouse could die and then someone could lose their income and homelessness was a problem in general.

But. . . what could you sign as your name? Your real name couldn’t be used here. It would cause way too many questions if someone ended up finding your grandparents or something and tried to convince them you were family. Well, you are family, but you haven’t been born yet! Ugh. It would be too much trouble.

. . . A fake name would do for now.

> **_Cosmo Hill_ **

Yes.

This would do.


	2. {02} - This Was a Huge Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the span of ten minutes you break a record by making several huge mistakes.
> 
> \---
> 
> thanks to mel again for helping me finish this chapter

You soon came to realize you now lived on a strange pendulum of luck.

Whatever caused you to fly back to the year 1942 did not reverse itself in a matter of days as you hoped. This lead to you moving out of the shelter as quickly as you could, that lead to your next roadblock; clothes, which had it’s own problem, which was money.

You had plenty of money, so what was the problem? The appearance of the bills. The bills you had were from 2014, radically different from the bills you needed in the year 1942.

No one would in their right mind would accept your money and not call the cops for giving them what they thought was counterfeit money.

The sad part was that you only realized this right as you were about to pay for your purchases at a boutique. You almost backpedaled and ran off when every coin and bill you had on your person changed their appearances to match the currency of 1940.

Such a phenomenon made no sense at all. Despite the oddity of it all, the casher accepted the money you offered to them, no questions asked. You could only helplessly stare at the vast amount of money that remained in your wallet in confusion as your items (ranging from dresses, tops, skirts and stockings) were bagged for you.

You simply couldn’t understand it. How did your money change how it looked? How does that even work?

But your oddly changed money continued to work as you got your hair professionally styled into beautiful curls that framed your face and when you looked around New York City in your hunt to purchase an apartment. When you finally found the perfect one to fit your needs you were shocked dumb. It was incredibly cheap, at least compared to back home, apparently the average price for an apartment in 40’s was $50 dollars.

_FIFTY FUCKING DOLLARS._

Your appartment was a small one, just a simple two room with a kitchenette and bathroom. Luckily it came with spare electronics, like a toaster and a simple tv set. Neither of which were the best, but they worked so you were content with them.

You knew you would have to go out and buy more things but for the following days, you were somewhat freaked out. You constantly wondered if someone was going to bust down your door for the money you used for your purchases, but nothing happened.

You couldn't help but wonder if it was connected to the thing. . . lodged in your hand. You have no idea what it is and you weren’t willing to cut your hand open, or let a doctor do it for that matter. You have no idea how a doctor would react to to whatever is in there and you’re not really willing to test it.

Ugh.

You simply had too many questions and no way to get answers.

* * *

Morning comes once more, peaking it’s way through the blinds in your room. In return, you hiss at the light. You pull the sheets over your head in protest. It was a vain effort however. The sun hit your eyes and the burning light awoke you.

Grumbling under your breath you snatch your phone off the nightstand and attempt to check the time. Attempt is the keyword. Due to this time travel bullshit it's nothing more as a paperweight with the lack to technology for it to function. You wish it would become your illegally bright beacon of light in the darkness once more. But, alas, today is not the day.

Well, at least it's one more bill you don't have to worry about. . .

With a heavy sigh you drag yourself out of your bed to prepare for the day with a shower and dressing in fresh clothes. As you took care to curl your hair you made a mental list of things you needed to do today. Maybe look for a job, didn’t hurt to have extra money, and you needed to buy more food for sure. You know for certain you’re running out as you bought so little to begin with as you struggled to figure out how long you would be here.

Once you finish your hair you picked up the silver heart shaped locket that rested on your nightstand and skillfully put in place around your neck. Pulling on your shoes and checking your purse for your wallet, you take your leave from your apartment.

Thankfully, the store was not too far off. Maybe a mile or so, but it was close enough. You loaded your basket with enough basic food to last you a week at best. Or you attempted to do so. You were tempted by a couple of sweets and you had three brown bags in your arms as you made your way home.

The sweet temptation of chocolate, you could not escape it, even in the past. . . How cruel . . .

Unfortunately, as you morned your fatal attraction to sweets you accidentally bumped into two men. Both who looked rather shady and unsettling. They glared down on you, initially annoyed that someone would run into them, but that look vanished to be replaced with smug grins and a twinkle in their eyes.

“What’s a pretty lil thing like you doin’ out here all by yourself?”

“Oh, nothing. . .” You reply, trying to shuffle away. “Just, coming back from the store. I have frozen's, so I should go.” You knew a bad situation when it came knocking. The longer you stayed here the more likely it was going to get worst, however, you ended up bumping into the other man’s chest.

He firmly placed his hands on your upper arms, giving them a squeeze but in turn that made you drop your groceries on the ground. You look at the mess on the ground with a look between annoyance and disgust.

oh great spilled milk

this is exactly what you need right now.

“Don’t worry about that doll.” This man spins you around to look him in the eye as he winks at you. You hold back the need to throw up. These guys are trying too hard and this is one hell of a situation you got your ass into. Jesus. “We know a happenin’ place we can visit. A little dancing and some fun. C’mon. It will be a gas. We’ll treat you right.”

A gas?

This guy couldn’t be serious. Then again, that was the lingo for this era, but God, it was so cheesy and awful. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at it. This, however, was a huge mistake.

“You think somethin’ is funny doll?” One male snarls, clearly offended. “We’re just trying to invite you out for a good time! A woman like you should be throwing herself at our feet!” Shit. You hesitantly take a step back, which you immediately realized was a terrible move as they were backing you into an alleyway.

“Hey, I’m busy. I don't have time for a dance right now. . .” You tried to reason. Your back bumped against the wall of the alleyway. “Don’t be rude, give a woman a chance to pick and choose what she want’s to do. Wait until I have a clear day on my schedule!” Your attempts to reason with the men were proven to be in vain as they came closer and closer to you.

Then, out of nowhere, the silver top of a trashcan flew down the alleyway, nailing one of the men in the back of their head. The injured one places a hand to the wound on his head, before he and his friend glared at their attacker.

You can barely see who attacked these men. The only thing you were certain of was they . . . were scrawny and was a blond. Your savior awkwardly licks his lips. It seemed like he attacked on instinct and without a plan.

Incredible.

“You heard her!” Your savior exclaims, suddenly looking confident once more. “Lay off the girl. She has better things to do than to mess around with a couple of drips like you!”

“Drips? Who do you think you’re callin a drip?” While keeping you at bay, one of the men approach your savior to throw a punch at his face. The blond may be a skinny person but he was nimble enough to bounce away. . .and into a silver trashcan with a loud clattering ban. He quickly recovers, grabbing the lid from another trashcan to defend himself.

It was almost comical to watch him flail the lid around to defend himself. Irritated, the punk reaches around to grab the blond by the collar of his coat and shoves him to the ground. He does not relent his assault for a moment. While your savior was dazed the punk lifts him up once more and smashes him against the wall of the alleyway.

You gasped in horror as you heard him groan in pain and you were almost certain there was now a splotch of blood on the brick wall. The punk continues to beat up the blond, stomping on his crumpled body and stepping on his face. This was a little too much for you. You had to intervene or that guy was seriously going to get messed up.

You quickly remove a shoe and clock the punk standing in front of you with it. The man gives you a look between confusion and fury, questioning you really hit him and with your shoe of all things. He tactfully responds to your assault by shoving you to the ground. You hit the ground with a grunt.

Maybe it’s because you’re a little bitter that your day has gone horribly wrong and maybe that’s why you take advantage of your position on the ground by swinging your leg up, nailing the punk right in the nads.

. . .Desperate times call for desperate measurements?

Well, with the guy writing on the ground in pain you quickly darting over to your bags of store bought goods. You sigh a little, but, you can't leave that guy at the mercy of that other punk and you can always visit the store at another time. . . To be honest, you were more annoyed with the fact that you were saving your own savior.

Oh, well, shit happens. . . ?

So you begin to throw canned goods at the head of the punk. The first can hits the back of his head, immediately tearing his attention away from the blond. . . however, it’s all on you now and you realize that you didn’t really plan this through. Suddenly the blond jumps the punk once more, trying to capture him in a headlock, but the punk quickly counteracts by throwing himself backwards, crushing the blond between the wall and the weight of his body.

“Steve?” A new voice suddenly calls out. The blond man seems to perk up a little at this new voice and a look of horror washes over the two punks. The punks are panicked for whatever reason and they desperately try to flee but there’s no chance of that as a new figure appears at entrance of the alleyway.

He was. . .He was something. He looked very handsome for starters, a strong jaw, neatly cut brown hair and icy blue eyes. He took in the sight of the scene before him; eyes darting to the blond, yourself and the two punks, before clenching his fists and narrowing his eyes.

The large man at the end shook his head. “Really, Steve?” Was he . . . smiling? At a time like this? But the two attackers were already charging him, looking more confident again. You bowled a can across the ground and grin when the one who was attacking you slipped on it and fell flat on his face. The blond guy - Steve - was grinning at his larger friend as he danced away from the other person's blows, darting in to knock his head a few times before flashing back out of arm's reach.

In what felt like seconds, the would-be assailants were passed out on the ground, unable to move. A few more strategic cans lie around them, a testament to your contributions, or attempts to contribute, to the fight. You looked up from the mess to see a shoe being offered to you by the blond man. “Oh, thanks.” Your voice sounded a little odd to you - you were, after all, out of breath - but you felt the need to keep talking. Accepting your shoe you slip onto your foot once more and raise a hand to push your hair out of your eyes. “Steve, right? Thanks for . . . trying, I guess?” It came out awkwardly, not to mention a bit rude, that you wanted to hit yourself when you saw that Steve looked a bit hurt.

“Y . . . yeah. I just can't stand bullies.” He fumbles to explain.

“I can’t either.” You admit with a crooked smile. “but, we’re lucky no one was seriously hurt. You did help me out, so, thanks.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't keep picking fights with people who can beat you up.” His friend walked over with your bags of groceries, picking up the stray cans. “Sorry about your milk.”

“It's not a problem,” You said a little faster than you would have liked. “It's mean, I can always buy more. And really, milk is the last thing on my mind right now, right Steve?” You and the tall one look over to see Steve doubled over, clutching his side. “Uh . . . Steve?”

His friend was already at his side, and you were surprised by that as you didn't see him move at all. “Steve, are you okay? How bad did they get you?” Steve's face contorted into a grimace.

“I’ll be fine, Buck. Just give me some t- oof”

“The guy stepped on your face.” You reminded him. “Repeatedly.”

“Well, I can still see so it can't be that bad, right?”

“Steve. Buddy. We need to get you somewhere to clean you up and get you bandaged. Your head is bleeding and I don't like blood in your pretty blond hair.”

“You really do love me.” Steve grinned.

oh my god

do they have time for this. . .?

“I actually live nearby, we can fix him up in my apartment.” His friend nods.

“One second.” He tears off a strip of his shirt, leaving his midriff exposed, and uses it to bind Steve's head as you take a second to notice how well defined and nicely shaped his abdominal area is. “Alright, that should stop the bleeding until we can get a better look at it.” Your eyes snap up, hopefully before he caught you staring.

“G . . . good. My apartment is this way,” you say as you quickly turn around and start leading the way out of the alley. You deliberately stay facing away so he can't see your blush as you call over your shoulder, “Do you need help?”

“I think we’re good,” Comes the reply.

“So . . . thanks. For saving us. Me and Steve.”

You hear a protest followed by a grunt, then a dejected sigh. “Used to it.” You turn around to see Steve weakly kicking as his friend carries him over his shoulder. “Very used to it.” He grins and holds out his free hand. “I'm Bucky, by the way. You've already met Steve.” He gestures to the scrawny form over his shoulder. Steve feebly raises a hand.

In return you smile, taking Bucky’s larger hand and give it a shake.

“I’m Cosmo,” you say. Stepping away, you make a beckoning gesture. “I hate to be impolite, but should we hurry so your friend here doesn't die on us?”

“Nah he's tough,” Bucky says, although the look on his face betrays his worry. “Wouldn't hurt to get somewhere we can lay him down though.”

With that, you turn and hurriedly lead Bucky towards your apartment.


	3. {03} - READER-CHAN: EMBARRASS YOURSELF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How bad could you embarrass yourself in front of two guys that saved you?

As soon as you arrived at your apartment you set your bags on the counter and point to your couch informing Bucky to place Steve on it. He complies with your order as you quickly make your way to the bathroom.

You knew you had a first aid kit in there for certain. It was hard to miss it because it was a black metal box and all. It was one of the first things you bought in order to bandage your left hand and hide the scarring on it.

Tucking the black box under your arm, you grab a hand towel and wet it before returning to the living room. Steve is still on the couch, awkwardly glancing around as he’s unsure what to do beyond waiting. As for Bucky was in the kitchen pulling items from the brown bags and placing your groceries inside the fridge for you.

You turn your attention back to Steve, taking a seat next to him. You quietly ask him to turn the back of his head in your direction. Thanks to his willingness to complying he allows you to gently whip the blood from the cut at the back of his head. You were very thankful that the cut wasn’t huge so he wouldn’t need stitches. Just a small patch up job would do.

You pull the bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the first aid kit and dabbed a little of the colorless liquid onto one of the spare hand towels you brought out with you.

“It’s going to sting a little.” You warn Steve. Once he nods his head in understanding you press the cloth to the wound, cleaning it of dirt. Steve hisses through clenched teeth and clutches his thigh in response to the stinging pain. Once the wound was cleaned Steve held the towel to the wound as you instructed him to and you searched the first aid kit for gauze and the long roll of bandages.

Once you tore the packaging from the gauze, you asked Steve to lower the towel and gently pressed the gauze to the wound. Using your thumb, you kept the gauze in place as you proceeded to wrap the length of the bandages around his head and the gauze. Finding the job to be comple, you smiled.

“There,” You smile at your work. “Now, you’ll need some ice to help with the swelling.” You take the remaining hand towel with you into the kitchen. Bucky gracefully ducks out of your way with a smile and a small bow and makes his way over to Steve to checkout the current state of his friend’s condition. Bucky gives Steve a small grin, lightly knocking his knuckles against the side of his friend’s head.

You quickly turn your attention back to the freezer but the sight of Bucky’s smile was still present in your mind. It was just a smile. A simple kind gesture but he. . . he looked really nice with a smile.

You're suddenly aware that your cheeks feel warmer than usual. You quickly shake your head and yank the freezer door open, letting the cold air hit your flushed face. You spend a minute or two removing ice cubes from the tray and placing them in the towel before returning to Steve’s side, hoping that neither of them noticed how red your face was.

If they did, they didn’t say anything.

thank jesus

Wait a minute. . . Steve is grinning. Oh god he knows. _He saw._

“It. . . It’s might be odd, but. . . ” You mumble, scratching the back of your neck. “Why don’t you. . . stay for the night?” Oh god. How could you say that? And now, it’s too late to abort. The words have been spoken. This was a huge mistake and embarrassing but your mouth kept on moving. “I-I’m just worried, ya know? Steve might have a concussion, or something, and he’s in no condition to be moving around a whole lot if you ask me, it would be easier to take care of him in shifts.”

You glance to Steve. His smile vanishes seconds before Bucky looks at him in an attempt to gauge his condition. Soon enough Bucky shrugs his shoulders with a thoughtful look.

“I don't see the harm in being careful.” Grinning, he nudges his friend’s shoulders. “You do want to be in good shape when you try out for the army, don't you?”

“Yeah . . . thanks.” Steve mumbles in return to his friend, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Don't thank me. It's not my couch you've been bleeding on all day.” That being said, Steve looks at you and tries to wink through the pain.

“Thanks, and . . . sorry about the mess.”

Bucky grins and repeats the thanks, adding; “It's really kind of you to let us stay over. I promise we’ll do our best to get out of your way as soon as we’re sure he’s well.”

You smile a little. Despite the chaos and trouble you ran into this morning, at this point, you can't deny that you don't mind that it happened at all. After all, thanks to it you met two really nice guys. Both who were pretty genuine and nice, not to mention kind and polite, to you.

“It’s the least I could do really, you did more or less save me today.” You smile, brushing a curl of hair back. “Consider this my thanks.” Bucky sort of smiles and rubs the back of his neck.

“It was no trouble.” He mumbles. He lifts his head up, grinning and looking confident as ever. “Anyway, I'll take first shift, you can go to bed. It's been a bit of a long day for you, it seems.”

“Yes,” You laugh a little. “It certainly was a long day. . .” Your eyes look down, to glance to your feet when your eyes happen to drift upon Bucky’s torso. At that moment, you remember his shirt was torn. His midriff has been exposed this whole time. Your face flushes a deep red hue, reaching the tip of your ears.

“I’M SORRY I DON’T HAVE ANY MEN’S SHIRTS!!” You suddenly scream, hands on your flushed cheeks. The room is dead silent and you wish you could crawl into a hole and disappear. You’re making such a goddamn fool of yourself so bad right now holy shit. “I-I’m going!” You quickly blurt, rushing down the hall to your bedroom.

“Don’t forget to wake me up when you need to rest!” You hastily throw over your shoulder.  “I'm just at the end of the hall.”  God, could this get any worse? As you close the door, you hear Steve's voice, obviously trying to be quiet, go ‘She likes you’ in the smarmiest, most teasing voice such a tiny beat up child could possibly muster.

You close the door all the way before you hear Bucky's response and throw yourself into bed without bothering to take your clothes off, and go out like a light.

That was the smoothest move you’ve ever pulled in your life.

* * *

The next time you wake up there is no light out. So trying to read your clock without lighting is a challenge but you manage to make out that it’s 3AM. 3 AM and Bucky didn’t bother to wake you up.

oh god bucky

All at once, your embarrassing memories from hours ago flood your mind. . . and something else. Something that’s been at the back of your mind, gnawing incessantly ever since you heard the names of your companions . . Something you forgot with all this change around you.

> _"Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. Barnes is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country."_

You’re not currently housing just two men from New York. You’re housing heroes of your country, long before they became the beloved heroes you’ve come to read in history books. All at once, it feels like things have shifted in an entirely new way.

Even if you’ve gone back in time, it’s not like. . . you can change anything. . . You can't change time. Altering anything, even if it’s a small things, could have awful consequences. . . That is the magnitude of the butterfly effect.

You run your hand over your face, suddenly feeling drained and useless with your current state of affairs.

You’ll just. . . have to get through the rest of the night. After this, you’ll probably never run into them. This was just a rare coincidence that you crossed paths with them anyway. So, you’ll have to keep calm.

You take a breath before leaving your room to make your way to the living room once more. Your weary eyes soften and a smile crosses your face at the sight that awaited you in the living room. You couldn’t deny that it was a rather sweet and adorable one.

Bucky was sitting on the couch, his arms crossed and head rested on top of Steve’s as the blond rested against his shoulder. Laughing lightly, you returned to your room to grab a bedsheet so you could drape it over their bodies.

It was so sweet. . . but it’s always calm before the storm, right?


	4. {04} - War Comes to the Homefront

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues in New York as a war rages on outside and bit by bit, things change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short but it's for the build up for the next chapter!
> 
> Also, I'd really like to thank everyone for their support so far. It really means a lot to Mel and I. Especially with the dump of personal issues I had last night it, it just makes me so happy to know people like my work and are eager to see more!

What you believed would be only a one night affair proved to be otherwise. The longer you stayed in New York the more you ended up crossing paths with Steve and Bucky. To be frank, it left you with mixed feelings. You were glad that someone was out there who was willing to support you and keep an eye out for you. . . but sometimes it was hard to watch them laugh and smile as you were all too aware of what fate had in store for the two of them.

It hurt a lot to look at Bucky. You already know you’ve fallen for him but a loud voice in your mind told you it was a pointless thing to feel. . .

He. . .

* * *

 

Having Bucky and Steve return to your apartment was a small reminder of what was going on outside New York, or America for that matter.

War.

World War II specifically.

It was a subject you never really enjoyed to have crammed in your head year after year. It was rather uncomfortable for you. . . the thought of such unneeded death and violence.

Still, after Steve came to your apartment with a newspaper in hand to inform you that America had joined the war almost day in and day out the boy have spent their afternoons in the gym, training their hardest to make themselves into army material. Thanks to this you've been keeping all sorts of medical supplies in your bathroom now, and it seems like most of them end up on or in Steve one way or another.

Every time they visit they tell you about how their sparring went. Steve gets animated when he talks about how close he was to beating Bucky this time. He usually agrees, and says Steve is getting stronger every day they train, with his distracting smile and light laughter.

Every once in a while you would try to remember if his pictures in the history books looked as good as the smiles he would give you or Steve, but then you remember you barely passed that class with a ‘D-’. All this admiration you feel for Bucky was starting to worry you. He's got this destiny he needs to fulfill and you're . . . well, you're not sure what you are right now.

A person sorely out of place? That sounds about right. Regardless, until the time comes, you know you want to be as involved as Fate, or whatever brought you back, will let you be in his life.

So the routine goes on and on. The boys spar at the gym during the day, come over to your apartment to fix Steve up and for dinner, then go home if Steve can walk. It's getting, for a lack of a better word, domestic, as you even have the day they plan on visit the local recruitment station marked out on your calendar.

It was almost humorous how eager and concerned you were to see them pass.

Did they make it in on their first try? You try to rack your brain but it’s no good, you can't seem to come up with an answer. This is almost sad. It's not like you're expected to remember everything you learn in History class, but God, why were you so terrible at history? You should know shit like this. But instead, your skills and knowledge are all in flowers.

You chose to distract yourself from your thoughts by scrubbing the dirty plates a little harder. However, a new distraction arrived to prevent you from breaking your plates in the form of a pair of hands gently touching your shoulders. You initially jump at the touch and the hands leave your shoulders. Spinning around you find Bucky standing behind you, grinning and looking a bit playful.

“Sorry about scarin' you doll.” He apologizes.

“No, it’s fine. . .” You laugh, placing the plate into the sink for the moment, and he smiles in return. “Something up?”

“Not much,” He shrugs his shoulders, casually leaning against the counter. “You seem worried. What’s bugging you?” You immediately flush and glance away. You had no idea you were being so obvious with your concerns. . . or did he become so accustomed to you that he could read you with ease?

“I guess. . . I’m anxious.” You admit with an awkward laugh. “I mean, it’s kinda silly to be. You’ll both make it into the army. I know you will.”

“You think so, huh?” He laughs, and it’s such a lovely sound. A kind smile breaks across his face. “Well, it’s nice to know we have your vote of confidence.” As he leans against the counter you noticed that Bucky suddenly seems a bit nervous. You raise a brow of curiosity of the sight as he was a cool in control guy.

“So, we were thinking about heading to Riegelmann Boardwalk this Saturday. It’ll be killer diller, especially if you’re there with us.”

To Coney Island with the boys? Well, it wasn’t a date but it was the closest thing you’d probably be able to get with Bucky. And it’s not like you dislike Steve or anything, he was such a sweet guy after all.

“Sure, yeah,” You smile nodding your head. Your grin was so huge, it would probably split your face soon “It sounds like fun. I’ve never been to Coney Island before, so I’m really excited actually!” Which was a truth as you never did get a chance to see it back in your time. You’ve seen all sorts of black-and-white and colored photos and videos of the park but it wasn’t the same as actually visiting the park.

“You’ve never gone?” Bucky questions, a brow raised. A grin quickly splits across his face. “Well don't worry your pretty face doll. I’ll make sure you get the best experience out of this! It’ll be a night you’ll never forget!”

“Really?” You giggle. “Well, I’ll hold you to that promise, Bucky.”

His grin only gets wider. "I suppose I better deliver, then."

 

* * *

 

. . . That Friday evening, neither Bucky or Steve, returned to your apartment. . .

 

* * *

 

When Saturday evening came around you could tell things did not go as planned.

Steve looked like a sad little puppy that got kicked while Bucky looked like he had a proud shine in his eyes but it conflicted with the bothered look on his face. The heavy unspoken tension in the air did not help anything at all.

Once you invite them into your apartment once more, you quickly excuse yourself to grab your jacket from your room. Opening your closet door your mind races once more.

Of course Steve passed it. He has to and you know he did. . .! But, how did he make it in again? Your knowledge in history is not the best, as usual, you know there was some sort of secret military experiment, but he was definitely already in the military before that happened. So how and when did he get in?

. . .

You're starting to appreciate Google more and more as your list of things you wish you knew steadily grows.

Upon exiting your room you find Bucky leaning against the wall near your door. You assume Steve was around the corner, waiting in the living room, as Bucky speaks to you in a low voice.

“Steve didn't make it. . .” He begins slowly. He glances aside for a moment before looking into your eyes once more. “Can we try to use tonight to try to take his mind off it? Coney island will be fun, so, let's make it fun for Steve.”

“Oh, that’s fine.” You answer with a bit of a stumble. “A night having fun would be nice for him. It would help clear his mind and maybe. . . he can try again to join the army.” There was only silence in return and Bucky looked troubled once again.

Was there something about the enlisting he wasn’t telling you?


	5. {05} - Carousel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This carousel - takes us round and round!  
> This crazy maze of life, you can't tell up from down... Having so much fun...  
> We forget to ask where this magic's taking us, but hey, here we come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hay yo sorry for the delay.
> 
> Do you have any idea how hard it is to dig up any sort of resource and information on 1940s Coney Island? 
> 
> Really hard.
> 
> but finding out a ride is literally called 'razzle dazzle' made it worth it. it's also called hoop-la.

The bus ride to Coney Island was an hour or so long and it was mostly spent in silence, at least for your group of three. You were concerned about many things but you couldn’t help smiling with excitement as you came closer and closer to your destination. You only really notice you’re bouncing up and down in your seat when Bucky leans into your shoulder and grins at you.

You and Bucky both end up slapping Steve on the shoulder excitedly once Coney Island’s ferris wheel comes into view, and even he can’t help but give a small smile.

Making your way to the boardwalk’s entrance you’re not surprised to see that it’s so crowded on a weekend, even at this time of the day. But it was crowded enough for both of the men to offer an arm to you so you wouldn’t get lost. You can’t help your face splitting into a smile as you link arms with them and half-skip into the crowd.

The first thing, of course, would be to try out the roller coaster. Sure, it was nowhere near as intense as The Hulk in Orlando, but it was still fun. Besides, this was an adventure on it’s own. The Cyclone was made out entirely of wood. You never rode on a wooden roller coaster before! While there were no complicated loops and upside-down areas, the track swaying as the cars ran over them provided enough excitement on its own.

You get off the roller coaster giggling and turn around to see Steve, red-faced and breathing hard. Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder and gives him the look you’ve come to know as their silent “Are you alright?” - the raised eyebrow and half-smile he always uses to check on his friend. Steve smiles and nods, gesturing towards some nearby benches, where you and Bucky half-drag him so he can catch his breath.

 

* * *

 

The next thing you know, you’re driving in bumper cars with Bucky while Steve cheers you on from the side. These cars aren’t quite what you learned to drive in back in 2015 - of course not, you realize; they were meant for kids to ride, and it’s also over fifty years later - but you quickly get used to them and mercilessly slam into anyone and everyone in sight.

Soon almost everyone in a bumper car is aiming for you, trying to stop your tyrannical rule. You vaguely hear Bucky’s voice screaming “I got your back!” as you shout challenges to everyone else, catching a glimpse of Steve laughing so hard he lapses into a coughing fit leaning on the railing. As you’re careening toward your next hapless victim, you see the swing.

 

* * *

 

Oh God, the swing. You wanted to cry and laugh like a fool. It was called ‘Razzle Dazzle.’ Bucky and Steve ask if anything’s wrong, but you can’t quite breathe enough between bouts of laughter to explain how hilarious you find it.

Still, this swing ride was different from any other you’ve seen in TV or Movies. You sat between Bucky and Steve on a circular wooden bench suspended by wires from a center pole, with all the other patrons crowding around to find a free spot. You notice four men standing on the perimeter of the bench once everyone finds their seat, rocking it to move the swing. You swear you didn’t mean to scream it, but you hear your voice screaming “Give us the ol’ razzle dazzle, boys!” as you pass by one of them.

You notice Bucky’s hand around yours - when did you start holding hands? How long has he been holding it? It was warm. . . and comforting. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed the feeling of him holding your hand. However, you feel an all-too-familiar burn in your cheeks and hastily become interested in the chains holding you up instead.

 

* * *

 

Soon enough you were urging the two men to a photo station. It would be a waste to not collect a photo of tonight to remember. Memories were lovely after all and physical ones were all the better. Grinning like an absolute fool you drag Steve and Bucky by their arms into the building advertising the souvenir photos that would take only ten minutes to develop.

You all got carried away a bit and took a couple photos.

Steve looked dramatic and a bit heroic as he had his fists raised to punch Bucky, who looked both deadly and serious as he readied his own punch, and you gasped in the background with wide eyes.

You and Steve struck some dramatic poses together, back to back, and Bucky was posed to the very right edge of the photo, his face very stern and serious. It was almost like he was looking at the camera with that face to remind them not to do something stupid if they were to look back on the picture.

There was one last photo they took, your and Bucky’s arms around Steve’s shoulders and the three of you laughing and smiling together.

It took about a half hour for it all to develop but it was well worth it to hold onto these photos. However, after such a nice memory, you were about to suffer a few frightening ones. There was no haunted house, but the Wax Museum was the closest thing to one.

 

* * *

 

You immediately regret getting talked into this.

The regret hits you as soon as you entering the dim lighting of the museum. There were many statues of famous or political figures that looked real and yet. . . so fake. Fake with that creepy waxy sheen and beady eyes. Eyes that stared at you. It felt like they watching you and waiting for the perfect moment to come alive and to start moving.

You’re more or less dragging your feet as Bucky makes his way through the museum, a big stupid grin on his face. You’re not even sure if he’s aware that you’re deeply disturbed by the lifelikeness of the statues.

You shiver at the drafty temperature and curl your arm tighter around Bucky’s. . . which you realize is really well-defined. Wait, when did you start to hold his arm? Oh God. You were so freaked out you clung to him out of instinct and it feels so nice.

He suddenly turns to you, a kind smile on his face. He brushes a curl of hair behind your ear. Your heart flutters in surprise but with adoration for this man. He needed no words to assure you that you were safe and you loved that. You held onto his arm a little tighter, not out of fear this time, but happiness and comfort.

You may never know how he feels about you in a romantic sense, but, to be this close to him and aware that he would protect you warmed your heart.

 

* * *

 

Emerging from the Wax Museum, you still have a hold on Bucky’s arm. You’re still a bit bothered by the memory of the wax statues but at least you're out of there and something new captivates you. A Shooting Booth game. You vaguely remember your visit to the Captain America exhibit, it mentioned that Bucky was a sniper in the war and as a member of the Howling Commandos.

Oh! Maybe he could win some prizes!

Positively beaming at the idea you take him by the arm and drag him closer to the booth in question.

“A shooting game?” Bucky questions, raising a brow. You continue to smile, eagerly nodding your head.

“SIR,” The booth vendor suddenly shouts in a loud, booming voice. You nearly jump out of your skin because of it. “YOU LOOK LIKE A FINE SHOT! CARE FOR A CHANCE AT WINNING A PRIZE FOR YOUR LOVELY LADY THERE?” You nearly kneel over and die in the instant you were referred to as Bucky’s girl. Your face grew red and your cheeks heated up. You could hear yourself screaming, thankfully it was all internal. . .

However, as you panicked, you didn’t have a second to inspect Bucky’s reaction. For once, he seemed to be flustered. His cheeks a light pink hue and he glances away from you, to the gun on the booth’s counter.

“I guess.” He mumbles. “I'll need the practice anyway.” He places a nickel on the counter and lifts up the gun after he inspects the possible prizes on display. Finding a certain one that caught his interest, he grins. He carefully takes aim and pulls the trigger. Much to your surprise, and the booth vendor’s for that matter, his knocks a prize off the shelf with one shot.

“She must be something special for you to aim for this prize.” The vendor laughs collecting the small box Bucky knocked over. He brings it to the counter, opening it as Bucky places the rifle down on the counter. Much to your surprise, inside the box was a simple silver band. It wasn’t something expensive, it was pretty simple and cute.

Your face heated up violently, even more so when Bucky takes the ring and slides it onto your right ring finger. He gives you a smile.

“It’s not much, but I think it’s a start for a pretty gal like you.” Bucky continues to grin and there’s a sparkle in his eye. He holds on to your hand, rubbing his thumb gently over the skin of your hand.

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?” You sputter. “You intend to spoil me in the future . . . ?”

“Maybe. . .” He hums. If it was possible your face grew even redder. Unable to look anyone in the eye or believe that this was happening right now, you hid your cheery red face in your hands. Bucky, however, smiled at your reaction as he found it to be rather adorable. He continued to smile as he takes one of your hands from your face and holds it securely in yours once more.

Hesitantly, you return the gesture, squeezing his hand. He’s still smiling like a fool.

“C’mon Steve, we should-” He glances over his shoulder, expecting to see his smaller friend, only to find that Steve was not there. A glance around showed that he was nowhere near the stand. Steve was nowhere to be found at all.

How!? When did they lose him? You and Bucky share a worried glance before grabbing each other's hand and running off into the crowd shouting for Steve. You make sure to hold tight to his hand so you don't lose him too, and strain your ears hoping to hear Steve's voice responding.

Then you notice it. Or maybe Bucky notices it, but you both end up turning to a large poster recruiting for the military. ‘SIGN UP TODAY, GET EVALUATED RIGHT HERE ON CONEY ISLAND’. You feel Bucky sigh in frustration as you run to follow the signs pointing the way to the army recruitment station.

You find Steve walking out of it, his shoulders slumped. He doesn't seem to have noticed you, so you take a breath to call him but you already hear Bucky’s voice screaming his name. He lets go of your hand and runs towards the smaller man at a full sprint, and you hurry to catch up.

Steve looks up to see his friend charging at him, and you swear you see his eyes widen in fear even from this distance for a split second before they take on an almost defiant look. Steve stands as tall as he possibly can, clenching both his fists and jaw as he challenges Bucky.

“Steve, what did we talk about?!” Bucky demands. “I thought we had an understanding!”

“Did you honestly think I would sit around, Bucky? There’s a war going on, I have to do something to help! I mean, you’ve seen the pictures - what they’ve been doing … I can’t … I can’t just sit here and be useless!”

“But what use will you be there, Steve? You can barely lift a gun right now, even after all that training - how are you going to fire it, or do anything useful in a fight?”

“I don’t care, there’s gotta be SOMETHING I can do!” Steve’s voice is getting louder.

“Not right now, there isn’t! Not without more training.”

You hear your own voice trying to break them up - “Can we do this somewhere else?” but it seems small, and gets lost in their yelling. You know Bucky doesn’t want to discourage Steve and is just worried for him, and if you didn’t know Steve becomes Captain freaking America at some point in the future (the past?) you would be worried he’d die before reaching the front lines.

“Didn’t you hear me, I said I don’t --” Steve stops mid-sentence and starts coughing violently. The anger in Bucky’s eyes leave him immediately as Steve doubles over. The coughing stops for a bit, but you can hear the wheezing coming from Steve’s attempts to breathe even over the crowd.

Bucky is already reaching into his pocket as he leans over Steve, his voice suddenly softening as he addresses his friend again. He pulls out a silver box and what looks like a lighter. When he pops the box open, you see . . . is this really happening? Bucky is giving Steve a cigarette. Lighting a cigarette. Bucky is having Steve smoke. For an asthma attack.

God, what is wrong with this time period?

. . .

Taking another glance to the box in Bucky’s hands your see the box is labeled as ‘Asthma Cigarettes’. Well, that makes a little more sense. And by a little you mean none. Well, it’s just completely different era of time for you.

“You okay, bud?” You hear the genuine concern in Bucky’s voice. Steve looks up weakly from the cigarette and gives a small smile and nod. “God, don't scare me like that.”

“Should we go home now?” You hear your own voice over the crowd, oddly out of place.

Bucky takes one more second to look over Steve before responding. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we've had enough excitement today.” Bucky glances back your way before offering his arm to you with a smile.

“Besides, it's a gentleman's job to escort a lady home before it becomes the early hours of the morning.” Steve glances between the two of you, examining the wide grins and dumb love struck looks on your faces. A grin breaks across his face.

“So, you finally said something to her? Took you long enough.” Bucky looks bashful, his cheeks flaring red, as he mutters a half-hearted insult to his friend.

Thankfully, they’re both smiling at you, Bucky with that reassuring half-smile, and Steve with his cheeky full-faced grin. Smiling back at the pair, you wrap your arm around Bucky’s and rest against it as the three of you begin your return trip home.

 

* * *

 

Steve was the first to be dropped off on his suggestion. Both you and Bucky quickly figured it was an excuse to give the two of you more time together. You didn’t mind it. You weren’t the best with words, but holding onto Bucky’s arm and taking the longer way back to your apartment, you were more than content with how things were at this very moment.

But. now that you were at the door, neither of you wanted to part. The two of you silently stared at each other. You could see that Bucky wanted to say something, but he seemed to have his words caught in his throat and your curious gaze was only making him even more flustered.

“. . .Why don’t we go out tomorrow?” He finally proposes. “A nice dinner and a. . . a dance. How about it, doll?” Your smile grows wider and you nod your head.

“I’d like that Bucky. . .”

“Great, I’ll pick you up around five.” He grins in return. He makes a move to step back and take his leave. You weren’t ready to let him go just yet. You quickly step forward, wrapping both of your arms around one of his. For a moment, he stumbles over his footing before giving you a confused look.

Smiling gently, you lean on the tips of your toes and press a simple kiss to his cheek. You face flares red at the simple gesture and you look down to your feet.

“Thank you for tonight, I ha-” Your words are abruptly off as you hands rest on your cheek, lifting your head up and lips touched your own. The kiss came off as a little unexpected and rough but that didn’t stop you from moving closer to his body to wrap your arms as tightly as you could around his torso.

He takes a moment to catch his breath before coming in with another kiss, this one much softer and gentler. A hand leaves your cheek to thread through your soft hair. You hum in content and you can feel him smiling against your lips.

His thumb gently brushed your cheek when the two of you parted. He smiles again - a different smile, one you’ve never seen him use before, not even with Steve - and when you try to place it, the only word that comes to mind is ‘love’. You smile in return, resting your red face against his chest, listening to his pounding heartbeat.

Ah. You were truly hopeless. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> important notes form the work process
> 
> \---
> 
> Mina: Razzle Dazzle - aka Hoop-la - 1908 - 1947 (circular swing for 70 people - pushed by workers like a see saw - in Pavilion of Fun)  
> Mina: KNEW HOOPLA WAS ITS FUCKING NAME  
> Mina: ITS EXACTLY WHY THE VIDEO MADE A FUCKING HOOPLA PUN  
> Mel: HOop-la  
> Mel: OH MY GOD  
> Mel: I CAN"T BELIEVE  
> Mina: RAZZLE DAZZLE (aka Hoopla) (1891-1947) (a large wooden circle suspended by wires from a center pole & rocked by four men)  
> Mel: "GIVE EM THE OL RAZZLE DAZZLE"  
> Mina: im crying  
> Mina: reader makes give em the ol razzle dazzle puns
> 
> \---
> 
> Mel: http://leahandmark.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Atlanta-Photobooth-Rentals-LeahAndMark-0004.jpg  
> Mina: the guy looks like hes sliding on screen just to shake his head to tell you no dont do that thing youre thinking of doing  
> Mel: that's Bucky to Steve half the time  
> Mina: steve dont  
> Mina: too late hes doing it


	6. {06} - Shut Up and Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh don't you dare look back  
> Just keep your eyes on me  
> I said you're holding back  
> She said shut up and dance with me  
> This woman is my destiny  
> She said oh oh oh  
> Shut up and dance with me
> 
> \-- Shut Up and Dance by Walk The Moon

To say you were thrilled and terrified was an understatement. You’ve never had the chance to go on a date before in your life and now, here you are, going out on a date with Bucky.

For the event you went out of you way to buy a new outfit, a peasant blouse with a white floral pattern, a matching skirt that went inches below your knees and a pair of wedges to complement your outfit.

Just as you finished applying red lipstick you heard knock on the front door of your apartment. You heart flutters and you nearly tripped over your feet to rush to the door. It’s no surprise that it’s Bucky standing there with a wide grin on his face, dressed in a beige pants and a waistcoat, which was on top of a white dress shirt and red tie.

Shit. Your mind goes blank for a bit. Did he turn up the handsome today, or is it just because you're going on a date?

“Hey.” There's that smile - the one you saw last night. God, it could make you melt.

“H . . . hey.” You realize you hadn't been breathing since you open the door, and force a breath in. Smooth. “You look great.” You smile, brushing a curl of your hair back.

“Oh. Well . . . so do you.”  His face . . . oh God, is he turning red too? He's blushing!

He offers you an arm, which you accept as gracefully as you can while being all too aware of how red your face is. You reach back to pull the door shut behind you, and look up at him to see a huge, goofy grin on his face.

“What?”

“I'm just . . . I'm really lucky to be going out with a gal like you.” You’re screaming on the inside. That’s just so. . . sweet to say! Your smile grows all the wider. Beaming, you lean up on the tips of your toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Bucky smiles, facing you so he could cup your face in his hands with ease. He lightly kisses you on your lips. “I mean it to, you’re a one of a kind gal. I’m really lucky. . . ”

Smiles on both of your faces, Bucky releases your face in favor of holding your hand. Smiling, you return the gesture by holding on tightly to his own hand and threading fingers together.

 

* * *

 

The dinner was good - at least, you think it was?  You can’t actually remember what you ate, or where you went, really.  You vaguely remember music playing in the background, but the clearest memory from the dinner is definitely Bucky’s face and he laughed and talked.

The next thing you know, you’re walking again, Bucky excitedly leading you down the street.  He leads you to . . . oh God.  “I can’t dance!”

“Neither can I!” He replies with that goofy grin on his face. You can't help but laugh. Neither of you can dance, and it’s a really terrible idea to be here dancing in public, but you’re here either way.

It’s comforting in a way. Despite being so awful and the fact that quite a few people are watching and gawking at the two of you, you’re having so much fun with Bucky.

At this moment, he is the center of your universe and you’re content with that.

 

* * *

 

The night comes to a close and you find yourself at your apartment once more. You’re smiling over such a wonderful night but you're also a bit upset it’s all over. This time of joy and happiness you’ve spent with Bucky, you never want it to end.

And seeing how much he’s kissing you as you’re pinned between him and the wall, you’re rather certain he’s not quite ready to part with you just yet.

You shyly kiss back with a little more force, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading a set of fingers through his short hair. His lips move to the curve of your neck, which he peppers with light kisses before he bites the skin. A light moan escapes your lips. Your fingers curl tighter in his hair and your other hand moves to his backside, clutching him and pulling him closer to your body.

Bucky’s lips return to your own as one of his hands slide down your side, feeling your body through the fabric of your clothes. Shivering, you bite your lip, suddenly too aware you’re in the hallway of your apartment building.

“W-Wait,” You stumble. He seems not to hear you, completely love drunk. “Bucky-! Ah- wait!” Thankfully the punch to his shoulder brings him to a stop.

“Sorry doll," He apologizes, a thumb gently stroking your red cheek. "was that too much?”

“N-No. . .” You mutter. Realizing what you just said you face grows darker. You punch Bucky’s shoulder once more when you see that dumb grin on his face. “Th-That’s not what I meant!! I just. . . we’re in the hall and anyone can see us. . . .and I want to be with you as long as I can.” You shyly glance away, feeling flustered and embarrassed once more.

“Can you stay the night with me?”

“Stay the night. . .?” He softly repeats, his cheeks lighting up a light shade of red. You nod your head, taking his hand into your own, as you focus on your feet.

“Y-Yeah. . . Just, stay with me. . . lay in bed with me. . . and hold me tight. . .” To your delight, Bucky squeezed your hand before pulling it from your grasp. Soon enough his arms wrapped around your body, kissing your temple.

“I’d like that doll.” Smiling softly, you invite him into your apartment once again. He closed the door behind himself, telling you to go ahead to prepare yourself for the night. Still embarrassed, but feeling overjoyed, you gave him a smile before taking your leave.

You made quick work of cleaning up your make up and tossing your clothes into the laundry once you pulled on your nightgown. As you tie your hair for the night you return to the living room, where Bucky waited. He was sitting on the couch, his shoes on the floor by the coffee table which is where he left his folded up waistcoat.

He must of heard you coming because he’s looking at you, grinning yet again. He walks up to you, capturing your face in his hands for a light kiss on the lips. His thumbs gently brush against your cheeks and you lean into the soft touch with a content sigh.

“Is there anything you don’t look absolutely stunning in?” You smile, but it quickly leaves your face for a look of shock as he lifts you into his arms as if you were his bride. You yelp, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. Grinning, he carries you back to your room, where he toss you on your bed without a warning.

Despite that, you’re unable to stop yourself from giggling on impact or from wrapping your arms around his neck as Bucky lays down beside you in the bed. You’re smiling, smiling so much it hurts and you're tearing up. You hold on as tightly as you could, pressing your face to the crook of his neck, lightly kissing the skin. He smiles, kissing your forehead and brushing his fingers through your hair, lulling you to sleep.

 

* * *

 

That Monday, you and Steve see Bucky off for his military training. Looking around you note that the appointed pick up spot was overcrowded with friends, family and loved ones of  individuals that were leaving.

. . . You couldn't help but wonder how many would leave with promises of return only to not. How many will leave behind a loved one. . .?

It’s such a sad thought, but it’s one that’s decided to rear it’s head once more with Bucky’s departure. His history is already known and it is death that awaits him. . .

“Don’t look down doll.” Bucky smiles, tilting your head upwards. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. A kiss that spoke of gently, loving and kind words to reassure you. “I’ll be back. I promise.” Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around his torso and hold on as tightly as you can.

“I know you will. . .” You murmur.  You want to believe that so much.  Turning to Steve, you grin.  “Don’t worry, he’ll be back in time to see you get into the military - you’ll see.”  You grab the tiny man’s arm and turn quickly, leading him away from the already-moving train so he can’t see you wipe away a tear.

 


	7. {07} - Gravity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something always brings me back to you.  
> It never takes too long.  
> No matter what I say or do I'll still feel you here 'til the moment I'm gone.  
> You hold me without touch.  
> You keep me without chains.  
> I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your reign.
> 
> \-- Gravity by Sara Bareilles

Time seemed to drag on slowly without Bucky’s smile to greet you everyday. You tried to distract yourself with work and a bit of gardening but it didn't work all the time.

You would still meet up with Steve between his classes and his continued attempts to train. It was admirable but a bit worrisome with his health in mind that despite what happened at Coney Island he was still determined to enter the army.

Speaking of the army, you received letters from Bucky on a weekly basis, but your life still felt. . . hollow.

Maybe this was a normal feeling one would feel when separated from someone they love. Or maybe it was a guilt that was slowly starting to pile on you, scolding you for even engaging in such a relationship despite knowing how it could only end in a tragedy.

Ultimately, with so little to distract you now, you realized your bandaged hand was starting to become unbearably itchy.

 

* * *

 

It was just before Christmas when Bucky finally returned from his training camp.

It was a pleasant surprise to say the least. Even more so to see him in uniform as _Sergeant_ James Buchanan Barnes. He was incredibly handsome in that uniform, but - uniform or not - you were so overcome with joy you leapt right on him, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck, refusing to let go for a second. You didn’t care how improper it was, even more so in this era of time.

Your goddamn boyfriend was home and you were happy to see him again.

He was finally here again and you were happy. He was too, seeing how he grinned in response to your affections. He wrapped an arm around your backside and placed a hand on the back of your head as he dipped you downwards and greeted you with a kiss on your lips.

He pulls back, gently pressing his forehead to your own and your noses brushing against each other in a loving action.

“Hey doll. . .” He smiles. You return the smile, dragging him down for yet another kiss. This is a happiness that can't last much longer - you know that. . . .but you’ll take it. All its worth and all it is, you’ll take every ounce of it.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, you find yourself preparing to experience another page from your history book - Stark Expo.  You never got to go to the ones Tony Stark organized in your time, but you’ve seen the pictures in the magazines. There’s always so many cool things to look at, and new science to not understand but find really cool anyway.  You wonder if you can get into a photograph that will be used in a history textbook entry for Stark Expo, you can point and laugh at it later if you ever get back.

Either way, you’re opening your door, shouting “WHO’S READY FOR STARKCON” at Bucky and Steve, who just look at each other and grin.

“So I take it you’re excited.”  Bucky’s giving you that half smile again.  God, you’re not sure you could ever get used to that look on his face, and you’re also not sure you ever want to get used to it.

The amount of happiness this man could bring you was almost sickening.

“Of course I am!” You beam. Without a second thought, you took a seat on Steve’s bed, next to your boyfriend. There was a dumb smile on your face as you pressed your face to Bucky's arm. Grinning, he pulled the arm from you to wrap it around your waist and kiss the top of your head.

“C’mon love birds,” Steve laughs as his grin grows wider. “We should head out soon. We shouldn’t keep your friend waiting after all, Cosmo.”

Oh yeah, that’s right. Your co-worker, Sapphire Starlight, was bent on attending StarkCon as soon as she heard about it. She didn’t have the money for it, even with the extra time she put into it but it turned out Bucky had a spare ticket and he was glad to offer it to your friend.

She could even be a cute date for Steve!

Which she was more than glad to be. Sapphire was a sweet person, a bit of a firecracker, and she was clearly enamored by Steve. . . However, the same couldn’t be said about him. Despite all the excitement of the event, it didn’t seem like Steve was. . . there. Mentally at least.  He barely paid attention to anything that was going on.

You did, however, have to laugh a few times at a few of the presentations - some of these technologies you’ve never even heard of, and they keep insisting it’ll be in replacing electricity in fifty years.

Howard’s presentation, though - dang, that guy seems to be on the right track or something.  He comes up in front of a car that looks more like it should have come out of the 60s than the 40s and can fly on top of that! Actually, the only thing about him that’s from the 40s is his suit and the backup dancers. (Which anyone knows is a Stark aesthetic at this point.)

“Dang, where’s my flying car?”

Bucky laughs.  “I’m sure they’ll be affordable in fifty years.”

Just then, the flying car decides to crash back onto the stage to the midst of screaming dancers scrambling for cover.

“...I’m sure they’ll be safer too.”

You can’t help but smile when you turn and see Bucky grinning at you.  “Well, if we’re both still alive in fifty years … how about it?  Do you want a flying car?”

You snort.  “If they become affordable and …” You look over to the flaming stage. “Safe.” Unfortunately, history roused it’s ugly head, reminding you once more your beloved would not be by your side in fifty years. To distract yourself, you called out to Steve.  "How about it, Steve?  Want to pool money together for a flying … Steve?”

But he was nowhere to be found.  Just like him, of course.

Actually, Sapphire wasn’t around either. . .

God. They better not be making out somewhere.

On second thought, that would probably be much better than Steve trying out for the military again. Then again, fate dictates that's gonna happen anyway. Regardless of making out or not.

Looking through the crowd once more, you quickly do a double take when you see a couple in the crowd. This time you’re more than certain of who you saw. Steve is grinning, his face a red hue, as Sapphire hangs off his arm with a smile on her face and one fist pumped in the air, as if she’s cheering him on. He looks strangely excited about. . . something.

Bucky seems a bit surprised about this sudden change in his friend’s behavior.  Before, he barely smiled and wasn’t even really paying much attention to anything around him.  The grin is almost splitting his face and half and he’s almost glowing.  The grin - so similar to Bucky’s - wipes every concern you had; now that you recall, you don’t believe you’ve seen his face that lit up … ever, really.

“Oh boy,” Bucky grins, getting the smaller in a headlock. “Who woulda guessed that little Stevie would run off for a dark corner to smooch a gal, huh?”

“That's not what happened.” Steve firmly denies, his cheeks a darker shade of red. Both you and Bucky know that’s not what happened, since Steve it too shy for such a bold move but it’s still pretty fun to tease him.

“Well, I think Stevie is going to have a very exciting time in the future.” Sapphire hums, continuing to hang off Steve’s arm. If it was possible, Steve’s face grew even redder. Sapphire smiled, satisfied with this. “Come along Stevie, why don't you walk me home tonight, like the gentleman you are?”

Steve made a rather vague reply. If one could call it that, it was more like strangled sounds of a dying animal. Sapphire simply giggled, pressing her head to his shoulder as his took shaky steps forward. You wolf whistle and see his ears turn an even brighter shade of red as he picks up his pace, as if trying to get away from the gales of laughter coming from Bucky now..

Bucky looked to you, a grin on his face and wiping happy tears from his eyes.

“They seem to have the right idea. Why don't we head over to your place doll?”

 

* * *

 

And so, between smiles and soft laughter you brought Bucky to your apartment once again. This time however, it didn't take long for simple touches and kisses to become something far for intimate and passionate.

Clothes were quickly removed, thrown to the floor in as they were distractions to what you both so longingly craved, leaving behind a trail to your bedroom.

Between kisses to the column of your neck Bucky unbuttoned your shirt, revealing your bare body that was clad for nothing more than your undergarments of choice. He mutters something along the line of 'beautiful' between the kisses he leaves on the underside of your jaw. Bucky's hand rests on your left breast, giving it a squeeze.

Arching against the bed, you let out a loud shameless moan, however, upon realizing the sound you made you quickly glance away with red cheeks. In retaliation, he grins and tilts your head in his direction to kiss you passionately once more. As his lips occupy your own his hands slide over your body, pushing your shirt off your shoulders. You assist with the task of fully removing the article of clothing by sitting up and rolling it off your shoulders with a sultry look in your eyes.

Crawling across the bedspread you make your way into Bucky’s lap. Your arms wrap around his neck and his hands slide down your naked waist, feeling your body. Humming, you pull him into a kiss with a handful of his short hair. He groans in return, squeezing your hips tightly. You kiss him with a little more force as his hand starts to run down the length of your leg, occasionally stopping to gently rub it with the intention of gently coaxing moans from you.

It works and so he fervently to hear you cry out once more. Your lowered into your backside and he is kneeling above you. Grinning, he tosses aside his shirt, his hungry eyes focused solely on your blushing heaving form. You could hardly look him in the eye with how flustered you were.

Bucky kisses you once more, sucking all of your breath away. His hands slide under your back to fight with the clasps of your bra. Leaning back, he takes in the sight of your naked torso and smiles. His hands carefully run over the bare skin, eliciting shivers and moans from you. A hand starts to slide down your sides, hooking your underwear . . . but, there's a pause.

“Wait, doll,” He suddenly whispers, his voice heavy with pants. Looking into his eyes you notes that they were both passionate and serious.

“Y-Yeah. . . ?” He licks his lips, as if he’s nervous about something. He brings you in for a soft gentle kiss and gazes right into his eyes.

“When I come back from the war, I wanna marry you.” You’re unable to stop yourself from gasping or widening your eyes. Your face grows a dark red hue in the darkness of the room and tears prickle the corner of your eyes. Smiling, his left hand gently cups on your cheek, you lean into the touch and in return he strokes your cheek. “I can’t give you much, but, I want to spend what I have with you. So how about it? Let’s be together, forever. . .”

You should reject the idea. You should tell him ‘no’ to leave to prevent grief on both behalf. You should run. You should deny this all. This isn’t fair. This dream isn't one you should have with this man. . .

Despite that all, like a fool, you said;

“Yes! Oh God, of course I'll marry you Bucky! Of course! Of course! Oh god, I love you so much Bucky. . .”

I love you was repeated like a mantra between the two of you. And for that night of passion, between kisses, moans and intertwined fingers, there was truly no one but the two of you in your universe.

 

* * *

 

God, you’re so fucked.


	8. {08} - End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of  
> At the end of the world  
> Will you find me  
> Will you find me  
> At the end of  
> At the end of the world  
> Will you find me  
> So that we can go together
> 
> \-- End of the World by Ingrid Michaelson

Steve was gone now.

He was off, following his destiny to become the heroic and iconic Captain America. He would meet Bucky again. . . They would fight back to back, as heroic icons. Then the man you foolishly fell in love with would die. Steve would vanish too, lost and frozen in time, for years to come.

With both of them gone, you are left behind and alone.

Sitting home alone you felt empty but you felt no will to move yourself. You couldn’t bring yourself to go to work or to attempt your beloved hobby of gardening. It hurt. Everything. Your heart, your body, your entire existence. . .  every passing moment felt as if there was an unbearable pain that crushed and compiled upon your very soul. It chastising you over and over for being so foolish in all of your actions in this era.

And gazing upon the silver ring that rested on your left ring finger it crushed you all the more. This ring belonged to Bucky’s mother. . . He gave you something so precious with the intention of returning to you, you carry you off to happiness in a white gown.

But it was just that in the end, a dream. . . and you were Fate’s toy in this hazy web of joy and despair. You knew from the very beginning that this was a terrible idea. You should have listened to the voice in the back of your mind that once screamed that you should stop this before you hurt yourself.

God, but, you were so stupid. 

 

* * *

 

You can vaguely hear voices speaking all around you. You don’t know where it’s coming from but you cover your ears and try to block it all out because it’s Bucky’s voice you’re hearing. It’s as if you can hear him everywhere, speaking and reliving those cherished moments you spent together. The sound of his voice at this very moment makes you want to cry.

 

* * *

 

Darker thoughts creep forward, snuffing out the voices and remind you that this suffering is all your fault. . . and maybe. . . it was. If you never left your apartment that day this never would of happened. If you hadn’t, you never would have gotten yourself in that situation where Steve came to help you. If Steve hadn’t stopped to save you Bucky never would have looked for his friend. . . and you would be able to live without this ache and pain in your heart. 

 

* * *

 

 Your feet are moving without your command, not that you were aware. Even if you were you wouldn't know where you're going right now. You're simply moving.

 

* * *

 

You have no memory of what you do anymore.  Every day blurs into the next; nothing is really worth remembering anyway.  Do you even get out of bed?  Do you shower?  You must be paying your rent, because you’re not evicted yet.

Things get done and your body moves forward without your mind, same as it ever was.  Has it been a day?  A week?  Years, even?  Time is meaningless, you can’t get back to your own time either way. 

 

* * *

 

The dark thoughts swirling within you, telling you that is right. . . That isolation and purging your memories are the best solutions to your dilemma but, deep down, you know it’s impossible to do so because even trying to forget about the happiness you felt with Bucky is a much heavier pain for you to handle. You’ve already lost everything. Everything else you called precious to you before, and the love you felt for him was something so true and genuine. . .

You can't let it go.

No.

You _refuse_ to let it go.

The pain to forget, the pain of memories and dreams that cannot be _hurt_ you, but you love him so much _more_. To be never remember him or to strip him entirely from your life would do more damage than good. . .

Hopeless. . .

You are so hopelessly in love with that man. . . 

 

* * *

 

  _You don't have to forget._

 

* * *

 

An unknown voice rings out.

Shocked by this you jump up to your feet, looking around wildly. This was the moment you realize you're no longer in your apartment. You're elsewhere. . . You're not so certain where this elsewhere is, however.

It appears to be a tunnel made of white light that swirls around your body and there are apparently several holes in this tunnel and inside them images move and voices come forth. You can recognize each of these scenes without any effort. After all, they're your memories. 

You're baffled by all of this. Have you gone mad with grief?

 

* * *

 

  _You have not. You must return to where you belong._

 

* * *

 

Back to where you belong. . .

Your eyes are downcast and you clench your hands. Biting your lip, it hits you once more how out of place you were. You weren’t a dame from the 1940s. You were a struggling adult from 2014. . .

Honestly, you should have seen this event coming. . . After all, in the beginning, you wanted to return to your time. However, after everything, you're no longer sure and left without a choice. . . but. . . Where will you go? You've been gone for so long. . .

There is no family waiting for you. Your home and job are most likely gone too. 

 

* * *

 

  _Home_

 

* * *

 

You're fairly certain that's impossible. Lifting your head you glance around yourself once more and to your surprise many of the rifts replaying your memories are starting to close up. The only ones that remain open are the ones of Bucky. His smiling face, his kind smile and the sound of his laughter.

All of these warm feelings surround you once more and you can't help but smile between the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes.

Home. . . is where Bucky is, isn’t it. . . ?

If . . . if that is true, you want to be home right now. . .

You want to be in his arms once more. . .

 

* * *

 

_Returning to the hospital now with one unidentified female that was found at the site. No identification was found on the individual. They seem to be in their early twenties. Full extent of their injuries are unknown. Witness claims they fell from the sky-_

_What the hell? She fell from the sky?_

_That's what the witness reported. . . Fell from the sky and there was a crater at the extraction point. They obviously impacted with the ground with incredible speed and force. Miraculously, there seems to be no head trauma._

_D-Do you think. . . she's one of them? A m-mutant?_

_Whatever she is, she needs help and that's our job._

 

* * *

 

You slept for a long time and the world continued to move without you in the meantime. The doctors and nurses that looked over were filled with both amazement and fear. Your injuries should've killed you; after falling from such a height your skull should've cracked wide open but it didn’t. Instead, you were left with minor injuries such as a bruised and scraped face along with several broken bones.

When you finally woke up, it was the middle of March, 2015. In two months, it will be a full year since you … since you ... since you what? You must have suffered some damage to the brain or something; why else would so many memories gone?  Where have you been these last ten months?  You have the strange feeling, though, that something apart from just a physical injury is causing your amnesia. Either way, it can’t be helped; it seems you’ve forgotten everything.

Everything but a face, a name and a voice. They all belonged to one man. One man who smiled and spoke kind and loving words to you. Someone you loved dearly without a doubt. Day in and day out, with every free moment you had -- between therapy and checkups from the hospital staff -- you drew his face on every blank sheet of paper you could find.

Finishing your most recent sketch, you glance over to the flowers in the vase on your bedside table as the door to your room quietly closed with a click. They were gifts from a nurse, one of the nicer ones. It wasn’t like anyone else could get them for you. The doctors told you that you had no family after all.

You stare at the flowers a little longer. Your gaze shifts to one in particular, a white flower with scalloped petals, trimmed with stripes of pink-red hues.  Its name … you know it.

“. . .Carnations.” You whisper in a soft voice, reaching out to a flower in the vase but you stop yourself and place your hands in your lap instead. “Striped Carnations. . .”

 

* * *

 

_‘I’m sorry. I can’t be with you, but I wish I could. . .’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOES A LOUD SPLIT
> 
> After much delay due to school work and Mel's literally awful and satanic parents, we present the last parts of the Striped Arc of Carnations.
> 
> We intend to have more arcs to bring forth a happy ending, so stay tuned for more radical shit.


End file.
